Scandal
by hbm1396
Summary: Santana isn't very good at school. Ms. Pierce is one of the best teachers. What happens when these two combine?
1. Figging Office

I made it to senior year.  
Honestly, I'm surprised. I almost failed junior year. But I plan to do better this  
year. Much better. I want to go to college, right?  
Right.  
"Hello? Santana? Did you hear me?" Quinn snaps.  
"Where am I?" I ask, confused.  
"It's only the first day! Snap out of it!" She shouts.  
I nod as I realize we're in a crowded hallway. I don't even remember walking  
here.  
"I was trying to tell you that Puck mentioned something about a hot new  
English teacher, and he needs to be pulling Bs this year. How can he do that  
with a distraction?"  
A hot English teacher? When was the last time McKinley hired anyone under  
forty?  
I daze again, thinking about the new Cheerios uniforms and how the skirts are  
even shorter this year.  
Magically, I wind up in a classroom.  
I check my schedule. I should be in English. There's a bunch of books around,  
so I must be in the right place.  
As I take out my notebook I hear the click-clack of heels against the tile and  
whistles of horny boys. I look up to see the teacher.  
Quinn's mouth is open.  
"She's not that great," I say.  
But she's great.  
Black pencil skirt, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes hidden  
behind thick black glasses.  
Way to go McKinley.  
She starts talking about the books we'll be covering this semester.  
I lie my head down on my desk and "Santana, wake up!" Quinn hisses.  
I jolt up. I hear snickers.  
The teacher is in front of my desk, arms folded across her chest.  
"Why so tired, Ms. Lopez?" She asks.  
"Cheerleading practice, Ms..."  
"Pierce," she finishes, noticing I didn't know her name. "Don't doze again. You  
wouldn't want detention your first day, would you?" She asks.  
"No," I say quietly.  
Ms. Pierce nods and returns back to the board.

I get called into Principal Figgins office during Chemistry.  
I honestly don't know what's going on. I've been good today. No fights, no yelling,  
nothing. This is my year to shine.  
"Sit, Ms. Lopez," Figgins says. I do as I'm told. "It's come to my attention that you  
have a low GPA. Very low. Like 1.7."  
"Yeah, so? I plan on making As this year," I say.  
"With honors classes and Cheerios schedules?"  
Oh no. I know what he's going to do.  
"Please don't-"  
"It's what's best for you Santana! Turn in your Cheerios uniform and return your  
textbooks. Your new schedule will be ready for you tomorrow morning."  
I want to punch the living day lights out of him, but I don't because that would ruin  
my plan to keep good.  
Damn this plan.


	2. The Save

**Thank you to RG521, and Lileyfan1415 for reviewing.**  
 **This chapter is much longer than the first one.**  
 **Hope you guys like it.**  
 ***I do not own glee, wish I did then it would still be on. But nope don't own glee nor none of the characters in it.***

"Where's your uniform?" She asks without looking up from her book.

How'd she know it was me?

"I'm not a Cheerio anymore," I say.

She looks up.

"What do you need?" Ms. Pierce asks.

I hold out my textbook, not saying a word. These honors classes would look good on my college applications, but sadly...

"What's this?" She asks.

"I got taken out of your class. My GPA is too low," I say. She shakes her head.

"No. You're keeping this class. I'll make sure you won't fail. Plus, seeing AP English on your transcripts will make the college boards impressed."

"But Figgins-"

"Will get his ass chewed out later." She blushes upon noticing her mistake.

"But you could get in trouble for telling him off!" I say. "Why help me?" I ask.

"I see something in you Santana. You're not dumb. You've just never had the right teachers to guide you."

"Well thank you, Ms. Pierce," I say. I turn to walk out of the class.

"Ms. Lopez?" I stop and look back. "Don't disappoint me."

I'm already behind. It's after school. I'm with Quinn at Lima Bean. She's got her nose in her Economics book and I'm still stuck on calculus.

"Who needs math besides engineers and math teachers?" I wonder out loud. Quinn snorts but doesn't look up. Little Miss Straight A student hasn't said a word since we sat down. Typical.

I can't concentrate. Why is school so...difficult?

I want to be an actress, so why do I need to know the Quadratic Formula or the cell division process? I would be at Cheerios practice right now if it wasn't for Figgins.

"I miss Cheerios," I say. Quinn finally puts down her book and looks at me like I crawled up from hell to put demons in her soul.

"Are you insane? Quitting Cheerios was the best decision I've ever made!" She laughs. "No more crazy dieting, no more mile runs, no more Coach Sue. You'll see."

I doubt that I'll 'see'. Cheerios is what made me popular. And after coming out last year brought my status down, Cheerios is what kept me on the food chain at all.

Quinn doesn't understand. Without Cheerios, she's still model pretty and super rich.

"Whatever," I say.

"Do you like the new English teacher?" Quinn asks suddenly changing the subject.

I'm a little confused as to what she means.

"Uh..."

"Puck says he's gonna try to get in her pants. Me being his ex, I still care about him. He was my first love. So personally, I don't like this woman," she says.

I like her though. She got onto Figgins for me, and she's not bad to look at.

"I guess I don't know her personality yet."

It's the best answer I can come up with.

But Quinn isn't listening. She's back to her world of boredom.

 ***The Next Day***

Keep running.

Don't think about the heat.

Run.

It's early. I'm out on the track, just running. I need to keep in shape even though I'm not on Cheerios.

It's only seven in the morning, but it's hot as hell. I'm sweating through my gym shirt. It's pretty gross.

But I can't stop running.

My legs are numb. I've probably run over four miles by now. I feel like hurling.

But I'm also extremely calm.

Running helps me relax. I can just think about anything. I don't have my phone around to distract me. It's just me, my thoughts, and the pavement.

I turn the corner sharply, my shoes slapping against the ground and making a sound I love.

I see her.

Ms. Pierce is by the sidewalk, talking to Coach Sue. Ms. Pierce looks mad. I wonder what they're talking about.

Suddenly I'm on the ground, wondering how the hell I got there. I'm in serious pain. I must've tripped on a rock when I was daydreaming. My ankle feels like fire.  
I look up, hoping no one noticed.

But Ms. Pierce did. I feel myself growing red. Coach Sue is cracking up.

I stand up slowly and try to run again, but I just end up back on the ground. I can't move my ankle. I cringe at the tingling feeling running up my leg.

Ms. Pierce is trying to run towards me, but her heels make it difficult.

She kneels beside me and gently touches my baseball sized ankle.

And just like that my pain is gone. It seems to fade as all I can think about is her soft and cold hands.

"Does it hurt?" She asks as I am sent back to reality

"A little," I say.

But it hurts like hell.

"Don't lie. You look like you want to cry," Ms. Pierce says.

I'm mortified.

"I guess it hurts pretty bad," I say.

"If we can get you up, you can lean on me as we walk to the nurses office," she says. I nod.

I slowly stand. Ms. Pierce puts one of my arms over her shoulder. She's really skinny.

"I was trying to get Sue to let you back on Cheerios. Sports look good to colleges."

She was trying to help me?

She laughs. "Don't look so shocked. I told you I would help."

"Well what'd she say?" I ask.

"She said no. She said that last year she got a lot of heat for having a, uh...gay kid on the team."

I feel my ears burning.

I can't believe Coach Sue told her that.

I'm hobbling as best as I can. It's quiet. I don't really know what to say now.

She's my teacher.

We make it to the nurses office. The nurse tells me to lie down. Ms. Pierce leaves without saying anything.

I sigh as I watch her go

Crutches suck.

The nurse didn't think it was broken, just badly sprained. She gave me an extra set just to use for today.

Seriously, how do people use these?

"So how'd you hurt yourself?" Quinn asks at lunch.

"You know me. Clumsy. I tripped," I say.

"How'd you get to the nurses?" She asks, flipping through the latest Teen Vogue.

Am I allowed to say that Ms. Pierce helped me? Are teachers allowed to touch students?

"I crawled," I lie.

It's one of my worst lies. Who could crawl halfway across campus?

Quinn gives me a weird look, but she doesn't care enough to question me.

I'm just mad because now there's no way of me ever rejoining Cheerios.

If I got a chance by some crazy act of luck, I'd be bottom of the pyramid, and honestly I'd rather not be on at all than be on bottom.

There's usually Cheerios practice during lunch. I'd be shaking pom poms right now.

"Ooh, that's a cute top!" Quinn gushes, thrusting the magazine in my face.

This is what I'm stuck with instead.

My hand is cramping from taking so many notes during class.

I sigh in relief when the bell rings.

"Ms. Lopez! Stay for a second!" Ms. Pierce calls.

I crutch my way over to her desk. I think she's going to talk about this morning. The awkward conversation. But she doesn't.

"We have a pop quiz tomorrow," she says, scribbling something in a notebook.

"What's the point of having a pop quiz if you tell people about it?" I ask.

She looks annoyed.

"Do you want me to help you or not? I thought you'd like to know so you could study. Because you can't get Fs," Ms. Pierce says.

She's not looking at me as she talks. She's looking down, still writing.

"Thank you," I say.

"You can't afford Fs."

"No, I mean for this morning."

Ms. Pierce looks up. She coughs into her fist.

"I couldn't just let you lie there," she says.

"Coach Sue did it."

"I'm not Coach Sue."

Her hair is still in a neat ponytail. Her facial expression is professional, no emotion. I wonder what she looks like at home.

She's back to writing.

How long have I been staring?

Ms. Pierce looks up. I feel myself blush. Something flickers in her eyes. The corners of her mouth tug up into a smile, but she stops herself.

"Just study, ok?"

"Ok."

And then I'm crutching my way out of the class, feeling incredibly childish.

 **Thank you for reading!**  
 **Next Time; Quizzes, fake id's, back stories, morning runs, and unleashing bitches.**


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